


and the pale dove asleep in oblivion

by Anonymous



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Blow Jobs, Dehumanization, Feeding Kink, HYDRA Trash Party, Hand Feeding, Iron Man 3 Spoilers, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, alexander pierce died too easily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:05:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2412647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pierce slowly set the tangerine down on top of the rinds, watching the Asset’s ice blue eyes follow the motion. “Did you want some?” he asked, voice gentle.</p>
<p>The Asset’s eyes flicked over to him, then away. Slowly, they were pulled back to the orange fruit on the table, but he didn’t reply.</p>
<p>“Good boy,” Pierce murmured, because weapons don’t - <i>can’t</i> - want anything. “Right answer.” </p>
<p>For the <a href="http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/">hydratrashmeme</a><br/>Originally prompted <a href="http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/587.html?thread=159307#cmt159307%0A">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the pale dove asleep in oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags for the warnings. Just when I thought I couldn't write anything worse than my last fill, this happened, ugh. This fic also contains very minor spoilers for the end of Iron Man 3. If you haven't seen it yet...I'm sorry, but please go see it.
> 
> Title from "There is no forgetting (sonata)" by Pablo Neruda.

**

Christmas ended ten minutes ago, but it was a quiet affair even by the usual standards of the Pierce household - after all, bringing about world order was a lifetime’s worth of work, and couldn’t wait for petty human holidays.

He sipped at his glass of milk contemplatively as he padded around the empty house, making the rounds before bed. Synthia was overseas on another diplomatic mission, and Renata had the whole week off. Her gratitude was effusive and delicious - despite rattling around in a mansion by himself, he was set with enough leftovers to feed a whole STRIKE team. He had no idea how he was going to finish everything before it went bad.

The world outside was pitch black, only intermittently lit by the thin strands of christmas lights that the ground maintenance crew had put up on the eves of the building and the free-standing veranda. There was no fence between his backyard and the rest of the rocky California mountainside, a weakness that SHIELD (and Hydra) brought up during every single security review of his properties.

Alexander Pierce was fairly certain that given how infrequently (and unpredictably) he visited his California mansion, the possibility of it being consumed by a wildfire was higher than that of a successful invasion for the purposes of assassination.

He paused by the patio door and unlocked the latch before continuing with his rounds.

As expected, a few minutes later he heard the sliding door open almost silently. By the time he reached the sitting room, he had gained a shadow.

Pierce set his drink down on the coffee-table by the comfortable armchair before he wandered to the entertainment center. Ave Maria floated out from the speakers.

The Asset stood in the entryway, as silent as a ghost. A ghost of the Christmas past, Pierce thought whimsically before sitting down. “Come here.” He ordered, snapping his fingers, and the Asset strode in, expressionless. He dropped to the space by Pierce’s feet like a dog called to heel.

According to the security team, there was a vague but credible threat against the highest ranking officials of the US government and potentially, against the WSC. Analysts were fairly certain that the terrorist organization known as Advanced Idea Mechanics planned to go after the president, but SHIELD bundled him out of DC last week, ‘just in case’.

He also signed off on having the Asset on bodyguard duty - a compromise to show that he was taking the terrorist organization that shot missiles at Tony Stark’s Malibu mansion seriously despite being mostly unimpressed. Science wasn’t his strongest suit, but from what he had gleaned from the very brief, very high level discussions on Extremis, it seemed like AIM was rather idiotically making hammer blows with something that could be better suited as a precision scalpel.

A precision scalpel was what was needed to handle Tony Stark, as far as Pierce was concerned. Hitting a weapon of mass destruction with another weapon of mass destruction and being surprised when everything exploded? That showed a disturbing lack of foresight.

The Asset was staring off into space, still on his knees by Pierce’s feet. Hydra’s very own weapon and scalpel, all in one. A perfect soldier, made from the ruins of a good man.

“Mission report.” he ordered.

After a few second’s pause, the Asset responded. “Perimeter secure as of last patrol. Alarms are fully functional and synced with Command Control. Next check-in at 0300 hours.”

His phone buzzed with a message just as the Asset finished speaking in his gravel-rough voice. Pierce unlocked it only to laugh at the information. He shot back a quick reply before setting it down. “Well,” he mused, “that was Rumlow. The Mandarin was apprehended, the Extremis enhanced being rounded up, and Iron Man blew up his suits in a show of fireworks for his girlfriend.” The Asset didn’t respond as Pierce leaned forward and ran a hand through his hair. “Looks like the ‘credible threat’ just resolved itself and you’re off duty, Soldier.”

If it had been anyone else, the words ‘off duty’ would’ve garnered a reaction. As it was, the Asset merely continued to stare blankly, awaiting the next instruction. Pierce sat back and idly picked up a tangerine from the fruit bowl. He had the usual ills of a man past his prime, and Renata made it her mission to make ‘healthy’ snacks available at every turn, presumably to offset some of the unhealthier parts of her delicious cooking. Sometimes it even works, mostly because it was just too much trouble to get up and get himself a celebratory slice of “I-told-you-so” cheesecake.

His thumb punched through the rind easily, and the sharp scent of citrus filled the air. He peeled the fruit absently, making a neat pile before starting to separate the segments.

The Soldier was no longer staring blankly into the space past Pierce’s shoulder. The entire weight of his gaze was now on the slices of tangerine in his hands.

It was too easy. Pierce slowly set the tangerine down on top of the rinds, watching the Asset’s ice blue eyes follow the motion. “Did you want some?” he asked, voice gentle.

The Asset’s eyes flicked over to him, then away. Slowly, they were pulled back to the orange fruit on the table, but he didn’t reply.

“Good boy,” Pierce murmured, because weapons don’t - _can’t_ \- want anything. “Right answer.” He ran his fingers through the other man’s hair - it was soft and clean, one of the more thorough techs must have been in charge of this deployment - and tugged lightly. “Hands behind your back,” he ordered. “You don’t get a reward for doing your job,” repetition was key, and the programming left no room for any sense of entitlement. “You have to earn it.”

The Asset came after the second pull, hands tucked obediently behind his back, flesh fingers holding the metal wrist. Pierce breathed out slowly as he spread his knees, letting the Asset slide into place in the v of his legs. He undid the knot of his robe and pulled down the waistband of his pajama pants and underwear. There was a time and place to make the Asset work on undressing him with nothing but his mouth, but right now he was too impatient.

He was already at half-mast when the Asset nosed at him, and objectively, Pierce knew this man in front of him was probably pushing eighty, but subjectively he had the most decadent, cock-sucking lips that he had seen. Pierce stroked the Asset’s face with his right hand, pressing his citrus scented fingers to the Asset’s mouth, teasing out a wet flick of the tongue before he moved his hand and gripped the base of his erection. He fisted the hand already in the Asset’s long hair and yanked, pulling the other man’s head to his cock.

It was heady, the way Hydra’s deadliest weapon clumsily licked at him, from the base to the now-leaking tip until Pierce pulled his head back, just enough to angle the cockhead between the plush lips and _push_. The Asset’s shoulders jerked as Pierce’s cock hit the back of his throat hard and fast, and Pierce let out an explosive groan when he felt the Asset gagging around him. He savored the hot, wet heat of the other man’s mouth, fisting his hand tighter in the long brown locks so he could force the Asset to bob his head up and down. When that wasn’t enough, he held the Asset’s head down as he braced with both feet and started thrusting. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the air were the occasional quiet choking noise or gasp for air as Pierce worked his way closer to orgasm.

He glanced down and groaned. The Asset’s eyes met his for a split second before he looked down and away again, lashes lowering like fringe-fans. No sustained eye-contact was allowed with handlers unless ordered because it read too much like a challenge. No one could stand the weight of the ageless gaze for long, so the handlers made it a rule that he couldn’t look.

It gave off a false air of tentativeness, of uncertainty. The Asset looked shy when he wasn’t ripping Hydra’s enemies from limb to limb. There was a healthy flush on his face now from the lack of air, and his eyes were red from involuntary tears. Pierce yanked the Asset back, releasing his hair and letting the soldier cough and gulp for a few seconds before gripping his jaw and squeezing, rubbing the tip of his cock against that reddened mouth slowly, smearing precum and saliva like the most obscene lip-gloss.

He tapped the mushroom head of his cock against the Asset’s lower lip and teased himself with shallow thrusts, rubbing the sensitive head against the rough, bumpy texture of the Asset’s tongue. The hot press of the hot and wet tongue against the vein made Pierce’s fist clench hard, and the Asset made a sharp noise of pain. It shot through Pierce like lightning and he sat up abruptly, curling over as the first wave of climax slammed into him, shouting as he came in the Asset’s face, white strings of seed hitting him in the mouth and chin. Pierce growled and forced the Asset’s head back down, riding the rest of his orgasm by having his cock milked by the Asset’s throat.

Finally, the pleasure tapered off to discomfort from oversensitivity. Pierce sat back and took a minute to catch his breath.

The Asset was a mess, his face pinked from exertion and the red of his mouth smeared with semen. He was still breathing hard, blinking as if to clear spots (or tears, pity that Pierce didn’t manage to make him cry this time) from his eyes. Pierce tsked and wiped at the creamy mess with his thumb. “Clean it up,” he ordered, pressing the thumb back into that slack mouth, and the Asset closed his lips around the digit, almost delicately, and sucked.

Pierce made him lick and swallow every bit of cum that he could gather, and sighed with satisfaction as he tucked himself back into his pants. Finally, he reached over for the tangerine that was forgotten on the coffee table. “You’ve done well,” he said, “would you like a reward?”

The Asset didn’t reply, his eyes now on the fruit again as he sat back on the balls of his feet, taking his weight off his knees. Pierce resisted the temptation to weave it back and forth in front of him like a laser pointer for a cat. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and said “Well?”

The Asset finally said, in his gurgled-rocks voice, “Please.”

“Very good,” Pierce smiled and pressed the single slice against the Asset’s lips. The Asset opened his mouth and let Pierce leave the slice on his tongue.

The programmers did good work. Despite the Asset’s obvious preoccupation with it, he made no move to chew or swallow. “You may eat it.” Pierce told him, watched the Asset’s face as he chewed, the way his eyes widened as the sour-sweet flavors burst in his mouth from the juicy pulp, the stringy texture of the tangerine segment’s membrane. He waited until the Asset swallowed - just the barest hint of discomfort, probably from the burn of the citric acid on his abused throat - before offering another one, purposefully pulling the segment hard enough that the slice tore, wetting his fingertips with juice.

Pierce fed him, slice by slice, until the tangerine was gone, then offered up his hand. The Asset curled his tongue around the fingers, licking up every trace of juice and pulp. When it was all gone, he ran his relatively clean hand through the Asset’s hair again. The sensation of that clever, hot tongue had made his blood race, and the night was still young.

“You want to earn something else?” He asked. The Asset looked up at him, biting his bottom lip, and nodded. “Good. Go to the bedroom and strip.” And as he watched the Asset go, Pierce murmured, “Merry Christmas to me.”

**  
End


End file.
